Graeme by Gianna Simone

Author:Gianna Simone [Simone, Gianna]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2019-11-04T16:00:00+00:00

8

Graeme leant over the stone on the table, using the hammer to guide the chisel across the hard surface. This one, a dedication to Domnall, would soon be finished. At least as much as it could be at the moment. Soon the dyes needed to colour in the image of the chieftain in his prime, upon a throne with luxurious robes, would be ready. This one must be perfect, to pay homage to the man who had led this village for so long. The stubborn elder still clung to life, but Graeme knew it wouldn’t be long before he gave up the fight to live. The stone must be perfect first.

After finishing one angle of the decorative carving, he wiped sweat from his brow. The fire in the hearth had fallen back, the flames slowly dying. He supposed he should finish and bank the rest of it. His wife waited for him in the cottage. He scowled. Her presence kept him from his usual working hours, and he had fallen behind. While he had certainly enjoyed their coupling and was surprised to find her pleased with the darker side of passion as well, having her in his home, day and night, conflicted with his desire, his need for solitude.

He liked being left alone. It gave him the time to seek out more stones, smaller ones he could carry easily and unnoticed in the leather satchel always slung over his back. He wanted to find enough of the flat stones similar in length to his forearm and equally wide so that he might honour all of the village’s once powerful warriors.

Graeme had been one of them, right up until that last battle that had left him forever half of what he once was. That was bad enough, but to be one of the few survivors and unable to protect those who remained, especially Annag, left him with a fury towards everyone and everything, a fury that lingered to this day. Only here, in this small shed, did he feel his bitterness waste away, while he engraved these stones to ensure the memory of the great sacrifices Achnaryrie had made over the last years would never be forgotten.

Reaching for a thinner chisel with a rounded edge, he resumed his work, scraping the tool along the rock’s surface, forming swirls that, once painted, would enhance the battle scene.

Again, he considered returning to the house, but knowing his wife awaited him roused more of those uneasy feelings. Curious to learn more about her, desiring to invoke her passion again. Worse than that, an eagerness to see her, even if they didn’t indulge in lovemaking. To watch her eyes flash with anger and disdain, to see them soften and darken when he stroked her in just the right spot, or even to hear her voice every time she insulted him.

Bah! He was acting like a lovesick fool. He must control these weak emotions. Use her—after all, she was his wife and must obey him. It would seem he was damned and made to appear to be an even lesser man, with a more able-bodied wife.

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